My home begun to smell again. A nasty rotten air worming its way into my lungs and I decide it’s time to leave. I grab my keys, my love, my notebook and pen, my habit of wearing mismatched socks and my suitcase.
It’s a long while in this new place before the familiar stench turns my stomach. I have to get away. Keys, love, notebook, pen, habit of wearing mismatched socks and my suitcase. When on the road you’re exposed and unsafe, the thrill of clutching your baggage close as if it would save you. Every so often the wind would bring with it that smell. So swift it could’ve been a trick of the mind and I pick up my pace.
Soon though, new empty rooms begin to feel cold. I remember thinking how I missed my old home and began to unpack. Suitcase in lieu of a pillow I gather my little belongings to my chest and breathe. Inhaling the infected air wafting from beneath my head. I wonder how long I’ve known I was carrying it with me all this time.